


risk management

by classifieds



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 World Juniors, And Chad Krys, M/M, Team USA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 09:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classifieds/pseuds/classifieds
Summary: “I hate this job so much,” Jordan whines, and Jake is inclined to agree.or: American insurance: a love story.





	risk management

**Author's Note:**

> karina: i hope you like this, considering it's entirely your fault  
> every other person that clicks on this: i know chad krys didn't make the wjc team. please don't call me out. i also know absolutely nothing about working at an insurance company. if you know anything about it, that's probably obvious
> 
> this was all written today and no one has looked it over except me, so if you see mistakes, well. that's why
> 
> enjoy!

i.

“Hello?” Luke says dully into the phone. He’ll regret picking up in about five seconds, he can just tell.

“He did it again, Luke,” Jordan snaps into the phone. “The printer is fucking jammed again and I won’t have my consumer reports ready by three and he doesn’t even—”

Luke hangs up.

 

ii.

Charlie has probably been working here for eighty years.

He knows they want to promote him, and it’s not like he isn’t happy to have a steady job during his sophomore year of college, just. Just.

$15 an hour is $15 an hour, he tells himself, and wonders if it’s possible to commit suicide by coffee machine.

 

iii.

Joe is known around the office for wearing aggressively patterned ties. He drunkenly explained once at a post-work happy hour meet-up that he wears the ties because he feels they brighten up his workday. He’s a pretty happy guy, but he works in customer service, and, well. In that line of work, Jake thinks, happiness can only take you so far.

Over time, a subtle but reliable pattern has emerged. The shittier Joe feels, the uglier his tie is. Jake has learned to check his tie before saying anything, because, while nice, Joe is weird. Weird things set him off.

Joe’s wearing a bowtie. It’s a revolting shade of green, covered in tiny yellow bananas.

“What’s up, man,” Jake offers feebly.

Joe gives him a look so filled with despair that Jake thinks he probably has to leave before he starts offering up anything he can think of that might make Joe feel better. Like lunch, on Jake. Or, like, maybe, a blowjob in the supply closet. Also on Jake.

“Gonna go file,” he says, and trips over his feet scrambling out of the room.

 

iv.

Kieffer has been trying to subtly interview at other offices for six months now. They all know he won’t get another job. His resume is shit.

“How doesn’t he know,” Jack mutters, as they watch him type out an email to American Family with two fingers. It’s painful.

“Maybe he does?” Jordan says, though he looks unsure. “Shoot for the stars and all that.”

Jack gives him a disdainful look, and then steals his coffee.

“What the fuck?” Jordan demands. “You just got that for me. I haven’t even had any.”

“Be glad,” Jack replies. “I put four sugars in it.”

“Why?” Jordan asks. He takes his coffee black. Jack knows this.

Jack shrugs. “I don’t get paid,” he says easily, and takes a sip.

 

v.

“So what’s up with you?” Tage asks, his socked feet resting on a stack of files that probably contain information crucial to the next board meeting. He takes a long inhale from his Juul and pauses momentarily before blowing a cloud of vape smoke straight into Jake’s face.

“Uh—” Jake starts, once he’s recovered from not being able to breathe. He shouldn’t have come to Tage for computer advice. He doesn’t know why he thought this was a good idea. Even Casey, their IT guy who spends all day watching Youtube tutorials because he can’t do his job, would have been a better option.

The door pops open. “Tage,” Troy Terry says, aghast. “We’ve been waiting for thirty minutes.”

His glasses are pushed up on his forehead and his eyes are bloodshot. Jake is pretty sure he’s Tage’s PA. He doesn’t know whether to offer Terry a supportive hug or mercy-kill him on the spot.

“Sup, T-Money,” Tage coughs. Little wisps of white smoke curl up and around his face.

“I’m just gonna go,” Jake says.

“Catch you later, homie,” Tage says, nodding calmly. Terry, who looks like he’s just barely holding back tears, opens his mouth.

Jake bolts.

 

vi.

Whenever Colin jams the printer, he brings food to the office the next day. He’s a good cook, which is cool, because he probably would have been fired months ago if it weren’t for the food.

“I can’t fix another printer,” Joey says desperately around a mouthful of lemon bar. “I can’t. I’ll die. One of you has to kill me before it happens again.”

“That seems counter-productive,” Casey points out. He’s drinking beer. It’s noon.

“Joey?” Colin calls. “Can you check out the printer?”

Joey looks around the break room. “Anyone?” he says, wretched. He’s met with silence.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “Cool.”

 

vii.

Chad is Luke’s partner in HR, and he loves team building exercises the way most young mothers love their firstborn children.

“Gentlemen,” he yells, and claps three times. “Let’s split into groups. I should have enough blindfolds for everybody.”

“Kinky,” Tage says loudly from across the room.

“I hate this job so much,” Jordan whines, and Jake is inclined to agree.

 

viii.

Joe isn’t, like, objectively that attractive. His ears are giant, and his head is kind of shaped like a lightbulb, and his face is always blotchy.

Subjectively—well. Keep it out of the workplace, and all that policy-handbook garbage.

Jake swallows roughly, and excuses himself to go file.

 

viiii.

“I work in Human Resources, Jordan. I can’t fire White. I literally cannot fire him.”

“You could put some fucking effort into it for once.”

 

ix.

It could just be wishful thinking—probably is—but Jake swears that Joe looks at him sometimes. Not a lot, and not the way Jake knows he looks at Joe, but. It’s close.

“Lunch?” Joe yells as he passes the break room.

“Okay,” Jake calls back. I really want to kiss you, he thinks, and follows Joe out.

 

x.

Caleb, the front lobby guy, has a framed picture of Patrick Harper from Corporate Accounting sitting on his desk. Joey asked him about it, once, always on the hunt for office gossip. Caleb had smiled and offered him a Werther’s from the bowl sitting in front of his appointment sign-in sheet. Joey declined.

 

xi.

“I’m going to be straight with you here,” Clayton says earnestly. He has a supportive hand on the shoulder of a middle-aged woman wearing a shirt that reads JUNIOR BRUINS PARENT VOLUNTEER. “This is the best family package we offer. I know you have a lot on your plate, working mother of three that you are, and you’re going to want something that keeps you as stress-free as possible. This plan will do that. This plan will help us treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

The woman nods, her eyes welling up. Clayton offers her his handkerchief and she takes it with a grateful smile.

“What the fuck,” Jake whispers. “Why do they always cry?”

Kieffer, sitting next to him, sighs.

“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” he says wistfully. Jake is proud of himself for not snorting.

“I have to go catch up on filing,” he says, and Kieffer nods distractedly.

 

xii.

Ryan has been Employee of the Month for five months running. Everyone really, really wants to hate him, but no one has the energy.

 

xiii.

“You ready to get out of here?” Joe asks. Jake’s eyes absolutely do not catch on the way his shoulders flex under his button-down, because that would not be buddies.

“Yeah,” he says, and closes his computer. “Where are we going?”

“Wherever you want,” Joe says. His eyes are sparkling. Jake’s mouth feels dry.

“How about I follow you,” he answers finally, and Joe grins.

 

xiv.

Jack Roslovic is always on Tinder during team bonding.

“Put your phone away,” Chad says, and Jack frowns but complies.

“I was multitasking,” he complains.

 

xv.

Adam from Claims was fired last week. No one really knows why, but everyone knows it has something to do with Tyler from Investment. Luke refuses to say anything.

“A clash of Titans,” he says cryptically, when they press him.

Jordan throws up his hands. “What the hell does that mean?”

 

xvi.

Jake bangs his hip into the edge of Joey’s cubicle, and it hurts like a motherfucker.

“Ow,” he mouths to himself, and sinks to his knees, clutching his side.

“Compromising position, huh,” he hears Joe say, and Jake can picture the lopsided grin on his face, and he—he can’t—

“Come here,” he chokes out, getting slowly to his feet. He grabs the hand Joe has outstretched and uses his leverage to drag Joe to the supply closet. He was thinking about getting on his knees in here, a few weeks earlier, for Joe. That hasn’t changed.

He pushes Joe up against the door once it’s shut, and stares at him.

Jake feels sort of like he’s been hit by a car. The throbbing pain in his left hip is only a fraction of that.

“Hi,” Joe says. He sounds confused. “Did I do something, or—“

Jake kisses him.

“Fucking finally,” Joe says when they break apart. He’s breathing heavily. Jake wants him so much. “I never thought you would, fuck.”

He cuts himself off, scraping his teeth lightly over Jake’s pulse so his head falls back. One of his hands is in Jake’s back pocket.

Jake is beyond okay with it.

 

xvii.

Tanner’s nameplate says TANNER LACZINSKY in bold lettering.

“It’s Laczynski,” he moans. Jack, whose nameplate reads RASLOVICH, is especially sympathetic.

When Tanner’s business cards come in, he brightens up. “They spelled it right!” he exclaims.

Jordan is walking by, carrying a stack of file folders. “They sure did, Tyler,” he says, and walks off.

Confused, Tanner checks the cards. TYLER LACZYNSKI, they proclaim, in the crisp black font he ordered.

“I want to die,” he says to no one in particular, and puts his head down on his desk.

 

xviii.

“Yo, CMac,” Tage calls from his private office. Charlie looks up.

“Yes?” he asks. Jake can see the vein in his forehead throbbing.

“You seen my loafers?” Tage yells. “They’re Louis.”

“No,” Charlie all but screams back. “I haven’t.”

“Thanks, dawg,” Tage shouts, unaffected. Charlie looks miserable.

“I hate my job,” he mumbles. “I hate my job so fucking much.”

 

xix.

Colin jams the printer again, and it’s a disaster. Luke has to leave the HR office to calm Jordan down. Joey’s hiding out in the bathroom, presumably avoiding any printer-fixing responsibilities.

“I want scones tomorrow, White,” Luke gripes.

“Yes, sir,” Colin says meekly.

 

xx.

“I like your tie,” Jake tells Joe. He does. It’s a nice blue shade. Brings out Joe’s eyes.

“Yeah?” Joe says, beaming. “Thanks.”

(They almost get caught making out in the bathroom during Joe’s break.

It’s worth it, Jake thinks. Joe agrees.)


End file.
